My father shakes his head, holding the door to his Porsche for me and closing it when I settle in my seat. During the girls’ freshman year of high school, Libby tried out for the cheerleading squad, which Lara was the captain of. After tryouts, Lara and her friends cornered Libby and uttered every bad thing they could think of about her. Shoving at her and trying to tear at her clothes and her hair.
When Kenzi got word of what was happening, she took off like a shot. I am pretty sure she got an offer from the football coach; that is how hard she tackled Lara to the ground by her hair. I held her down while Kenzi wrote down every insult she hurled at Libby on Lara’s face in permanent marker.
The girls were grounded, and I got a beating and two days in the shed, but it was worth it. We protected each other, but I wonder briefly if I protected them too much from the horrors of their own family.
Kenzi wasn’t as blind as Libby was growing up. She was always sharp, and I know she saw more than she let on. Just like after I left. She grew curious at Elias’s behavior.
Maybe if I had spoke up about how I was truly treated, she would have had better chance at surviving.
But that is a lot of what-ifs, and it is too late for that now.
thirty-six
I hated leaving my wife’s side this morning. Her body was warm and snuggled up to mine. She had thrown a leg over one of my own, one hand splayed over my heart possessively. That is what I want to wake up to every morning.
The sight of my wife lying beside me stirred something primal in my chest. We are nowhere close to being all right. Even though she clings to me during sex and seeks out my embrace in the night as she sleeps, knowing I will keep her safe, there is still a long journey ahead of us.
My plan was to take her with me to this meeting, but an unexpected visitor showed up on Kavanaugh’s doorstep. Kenzi looked worn and beaten down. For all her stoicism, she is still yet a child whose life was taken from her too early. She never got to experience what it is like to truly grow into an adult. Instead, she was shoved into the deep end without a life jacket and expected to come out alive.
Currently, I am seated between Vas and Dante Romano at Augustu La Rosa’s estate in West Seattle. I am fond of theestate. The house is large and modern, with big open windows and state-of-the-art appliances. I have been searching for a place myself, but everything comes up lacking. This house fits my fancy and matches the modern design of the penthouse that is blown to hell, but it isn’t Ava’s, and I want something that can fit both our personalities. A modern sort of bohemian vibe.
Bohemian. My skin crawls at the word, but the eclectic, soft tones and open décor make her happy, and that is all that matters. There is a Queen Anne Victorian that caught my eye. It was built in 2008 and has an old-world charm and modern subset that speaks to my soul and that I know will speak to Ava’s.
I personally know the architect who designed it and have already scheduled a tour. It is just on the edge of Columbia City, so the drive to the office won’t be terrible, and there are plenty of back roads to take. I am still waiting on the zoning commission to approve my proposal for rebuilding Dashkov Enterprises. No one other than the fire marshal is aware of what really caused the building to collapse.
The leading story the fire marshal gave the media was a gas explosion, and the secondary investigators all concurred. Still, they are dragging their feet for some reason, and I don’t like it. Arctic Security has plenty of room for me to work out of, but it doesn’t have the same capacity as the other building, which served multiple purposes.
“I don’t care about what you want, you ungratefulmanello,” Augustu spits at his son. “There will be no treaty between us unless my conditions are met.”
Here we go.
Augustu La Rosa is after more territory than he can handle. His initial thought was to build an alliance through marriage, but as his last wife—and the three before that—all mysteriously died, I am not willing to set that up. Neither is Dante Romano.
The man is a fool, which is why Leon left. Well, he was kicked out when he was seventeen, but that isn’t how Augustu sees it. He gave his son a choice, and according to him, he chose wrong.
I am inclined to disagree.
When I heard through the underground that Leon La Rosa forsook his father and his right to be heir to the La Rosa name, I was intrigued. La Cosa Nostra is a lot of things, but I never imagined that someone like Leon existed within them.
Augustu was best friends with Benedito Romano, Dante’s father. The two carved a bloody name for themselves in the city. They owned half of it and greedily sought to stretch their grasp beyond their borders. It led to an all-out war with the Irish, which is why Kavanaugh was not invited to this meeting.
When Dante murdered his father, he cut all ties with Augustu and how he ran his business. Sex workers. Slaves. Bad dope. He built quite the reputation for himself, and not a good one. I took more than half of his old territory when I entered the city. Territory that was rightfully mine since it belonged to the Bratva leader before me. The one he beheaded in the streets.
That was a news day for sure.
From what Leon tells me, his father is unhinged and becoming increasingly so each day. Sitting before him now, I can see that.
“Why won’t you help?” Leon questions his father. “If the McDonoughs gain ground, it will do nothing but shove you out and kill you and all your men.”
Augustu scoffs. “Let them try, eh?” He spits. “We Sicilians are built of stronger stuff than those Irish bastards. They will have nothing. Nada. You will see.”
“This is a waste of time,” Dante murmurs from beside me. His voice is low enough that Augustu can’t hear. “He either truly believes that they won’t touch him, or he’s in league with them.”
“The McDonoughs don’t seem like the people to make a deal with Augustu.” I sneak a peek at the room. It is simple, barely any pictures on the wall and hardly any memorabilia. The house is well kept, but there are obviously things missing. I doubt anyone in the household is stupid enough to steal from Augustu, but I have heard rumors about his famous temper. He most likely broke most of his things in fits of rage.
Whoever the McDonoughs are working for or whatever they are a part of will not risk making a deal with someone so unstable.
One slip is all it would take.